


something dumb to do

by seventhstar



Series: ace of hearts [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Wedding Planner, Asexual Katsuki Yuuri, Asexual Relationship, Asexual Victor Nikiforov, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, M/M, Romantic Fluff, Wedding Planning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 15:14:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15391566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seventhstar/pseuds/seventhstar
Summary: Six steps to a proposal.





	something dumb to do

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FullmetalChords](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FullmetalChords/gifts).



> anon: leaves gross acephobic ask in my inbox on tumblr  
> me: spitewrites an entire fic

1.

“Viktor?”

“Yes, honey?”

“Where are we going?”

“Didn’t I say?”

“Nope.”

Viktor grins sheepishly as he squeezes Yuuri’s hand; as soon as Yuuri had come back from his office, Viktor had dragged him out, insisting that they were late. For what, Yuuri had had no idea; his plans for the evening had consisted of drinking wine and trying to teach Viktor how to use the Instant Pot. So far they’re progressing well. Viktor only mentions that it might explode once an hour now.

“The two ladies whose wedding I’m planning are going to do a tango as their first dance,” Viktor explains. “And they got a discount on the class today, so they invited us to come too!”

“Wait, you told them about me?”

Viktor blinks at him. “I tell everyone about you.”

Yuuri has to duck his head to hide his blush. The dance studio is empty when they arrive, brightly lit and lined with mirrors. It’s familiar in a way that instantly puts Yuuri at ease. He spent more time the ballet studio as a child than he did at home, sometimes dancing, sometimes just doing homework while Minako-sensei talked. The instructor is waiting for them: she’s tall, severe, wearing incongruously bright yellow.

“Good evening,” she says. “I am Madame Baranovskaya.”

“Lilia’s known me since I was a child,” Viktor explains. “I send all my engaged couples to her. Where are Maria and Nena?”

“Late,” Lilia says, in a way that makes Yuuri’s back straighten. “Regardless, we can begin.”

Before Yuuri knows it, he and Viktor are in the center of the room, facing each other. Viktor takes Yuuri’s hands and puts them in position. Music starts to play—fast, Spanish guitar playing the melody—and Yuuri scrambles to follow as Viktor tries to lead. He trips over Viktor’s leg and falls against him.

“I didn’t know you danced,” Yuuri mutters.

He should stand up again, but instead he just stays there, chin on Viktor’s shoulder.

“Well, I have to go to a lot of weddings,” Viktor says softly. His hands are on Yuuri’s waist; they sway absently to the music, nothing like a tango. “Besides, someday I’ll have to dance at ou—mine.”

Madame Lilia barks at them to take their positions again, and they do. But not before Yuuri, having caught Viktor’s correction, kisses him for strictly longer than necessary.

2.

_hey my fitting is running late_   
_can you pick up makka from the groomer?_

_sure np_   
_meet you at the fitting_

_yes pls_

Yuuri picks up Makkachin without any difficulty—the groomer knows him now as “Viktor’s young man” and tells him in great detail about Makkachin’s bath-related exploits before handing him over—and decides to walk to the fitting, since it’s a nice day. As far as he knows it’s not Viktor being fitted, it’s one of the brides; apparently Nena isn’t big on dresses.

“Hey,” he says as he walks through the door. “I—”

Viktor is being fitted.

Viktor is wearing a cream colored tuxedo with a black vest underneath. He’s smiling at himself in the mirror, adjusting his bowtie with his fingertips. For a moment Yuuri imagines Viktor somewhere else: a hotel room, maybe, teasing Yuuri about forgetting his vows.

_Oh,_ Yuuri thinks. _I have to marry him someday._

Before Yuuri can lose his mind and propose right there and then, Makkachin saves him. She bounds forward to bowl into Viktor, who nearly falls over.

“Makkachin!” He bends down to scratch behind her ears. “And Yuuri. How lucky.”

“The groomer says she flooded a bathroom.”

“Well, better theirs than ours.”

“Yeah.” Yuuri swallows. “I like your—your thing. Your outfit. What’s the occaision?”

“Oh, I’m going to be a groomsman at this wedding! They had someone drop out at the last minute. And they have a very formal dress code.” Viktor frowns at himself in the mirror again, prodding his eyebrow. “Do you want one?”

“What?”

“Do you have something to wear to the wedding? Otherwise we can set you up today.”

Yuuri has no recollection of being asked to be Viktor’s date to a wedding, though he’s not going to complain about an open bar and free cake. “Oh, yeah, that’s a good idea. I don’t have a tux, the last wedding I went to was in Japan.”

“Great! Gomez, can you find Yuuri something to wear? Something blue?”

3.

Because Viktor is a saint who sometimes has food delivered unexpectedly to the office Yuuri rents, Yuuri manages to rally and finish the last two chapters of the manuscript he’s been working on early. It’s been a slog—the author does not understand punctuation—but he thinks the bones of the book might be good, under the surface. He saves everything for tomorrow, and rushes out the door. Time to go home, he thinks, and he stops only to pick up dishwasher detergent and a bag of the blood oranges Viktor likes to eat.

He arrives at Viktor’s place to find Viktor in the kitchen, putting chicken breasts into his pressure cooker.

“Yuuri! You’re early.”

“I’m finished for today, so I thought I’d come home. Back. Back home. Yeah.”

It occurs to Yuuri belatedly that he has never actually asked Viktor if he could move in. He’s just kind of moved a lot of his stuff here and stopped going home except to bring over more stuff. Empty drawers and hangers have just mysteriously appeared whenever he needs them. Yuuri’s lease is up in four weeks and he hasn’t renewed it.

“I thought I’d come home,” he repeats.

“Welcome back,” Viktor says. He holds out his arms.

Yuuri throws himself into them, burying his face in Viktor’s shoulder, hanging on him like he might disappear. Viktor hugs him back awkwardly—his hands, Yuuri realizes, are still covered in raw chicken juice—and kisses Yuuri on the temple.

“How long have I lived here?”

“In my apartment? Four months,” Viktor says. “In my heart? Always.”

It’s nice, Yuuri thinks, to date someone so wildly enthusiastic about the future. The future is fucking terrifying. Yuuri’s glad to have Viktor with him to make him brave.

4.

The wedding is in Barcelona, a fact Viktor neglects to mention until it’s two weeks away.

“What plane tickets?”

“For our flight! You don’t want to fly economy, do you? They probably don’t even serve good champagne.”

“They don’t serve _any_ champag—wait, where are we flying? Why are we flying?”

“The wedding…?” Viktor says slowly. “It’s in Barcelona. Didn’t I tell you you needed four days off?”

“Yeah, but I thought that was to help you set up!”

“I’m not going to make you help set up, it’ll be boring for you. You can even fly in later if you want.”

“Don’t be stupid, of course I’ll help you set up,” Yuuri says automatically. Why would he want to stay in Detroit when Viktor will be elsewhere? Of course he’s going. He can carry things.

So to Barcelona they go. At Viktor’s insistence they fly first class. They watch a movie together, a real period romance this time, where Yuuri complains that the movie relies too heavily on eavesdropping as a plot point and Viktor complains that the wedding at the end of it is poorly managed. Viktor falls asleep on him in the last hours, his hair tickling Yuuri’s skin. He tucks his jacket over Viktor’s lap to keep him warm and dozes.

They arrive late in the evening. Viktor checks in, as he speaks a little Catalan, while Yuuri absently reads a TripAdvisor page about things to do locally. It’d be nice, he thinks, to go a date somewhere fancy. With both of them working, lately all their dates have been them at home together, eating out of Tupperware and kissing during commercials while they watch the news.

The hotel room has two beds. They push the beds together (”Yuuri, these hotel beds are so small!”) and before long, they’re curled up like two halves of a heart, hands held on the pillow between them.

5.

“Yuuri? Where’d you go?”

“Go back to sleep,” Yuuri whispers. It’s five am, early for Yuuri; he can only hope the jet lag will keep Viktor sleepy and not suspicious. “I’m here.”

“Mmph. Come back.”

He slides under the covers and slots himself against Viktor, until they’re just one person, one mass of limbs and love, indistinguishable in their matching pajamas and matching smiles. Even in his sleep Viktor looks soft and happy; Yuuri looks at him until he, too, is overcome by the time difference and drifts back off.

6.

After the wedding, Yuuri doesn’t let Viktor go back to the hotel room.

“Let’s go out,” he proposes. “There’s a market, right? I’ve never been.”

“Shouldn’t we change?”

“We can just put on our jackets.”

The November chill is almost pleasant, compared to the weather in Detroit. Viktor keeps his hand at the small of Yuuri’s back as they walk; his palm is warm even through Yuuri’s clothes. Yuuri puts his arm over Viktor’s shoulders. They pass a cup of hot wine back and forth as they pass through a market. Lights are strung everywhere; vendors are selling little ceramic figures and handmade jewelry; there’s laughter in the air.

“This is nice, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“It was a good wedding, too.”

“Kind of formal, though,” Yuuri says. He hesitates. “I’d rather do something smaller.”

This is the first time he’s ever broached the subject of their wedding with Viktor. This is the first time Yuuri has ever broached the subject of a wedding with a romantic partner, period. Before this, all he’d done was awkwardly call his dad to ask how he’d proposed to his mother—and that story had involved a lot of sake, so Yuuri can only use it as a model of what he doesn’t want to do.

Viktor is blushing. Yuuri stares at the reddened tips of his ears, and then leans in to kiss him on the cheek. He misses; ends up kissing him on the mouth instead.

“A small wedding would be nice,” Viktor says. “Romantic. You know?”

“Yeah.”

At the end of the market is an open square, where a live band is playing and couples are dancing; on the far side of the square is a cathedral that casts a faint gold light over everything. People are singing, somewhere.

“Shall we?”

“Can we go to the church first?”

On the steps of the church, the light makes Viktor’s hair shine. He’s watching all the dancing couples, probably wondering if Yuuri will dance with him. Viktor had danced with only him at the wedding.

“If you, uh. If you want a really small wedding.” Yuuri clears his throat. “Uh.”

“Yes?”

Yuuri comes closer. He pulls the glove from Viktor’s hand, revealing pale fingers, and presses the rings into Viktor’s palm.

They’re plain gold bands. They have tiny half-snowflakes inside, because Viktor loves for things to match; they catch the light like tiny points of fire.

“Yuuri—”

“There’s not actually a waiting period in Barcelona. Uh. We’re dressed for it.”

“…do I get to plan the honeymoon?”

“Please,” Yuuri says. “You have no idea how hard this was, I’ve been using Google to translate. You can plan the honeymoon and I’ll just…I don’t, cook a lot of food in your Instant Pot—”

“Yuuri,” Viktor says again, like Yuuri’s just revealing to him the force that holds the universe together. “Yes.”

7.

(They end up dancing the tango in the square in front of the church. And if they stand too close to each other, and stumble through the steps, drunk with joy and a second glass of celebratory wine, neither of them mind.)

**Author's Note:**

> (yes, i'm still on hiatus, classes start tomorrow, don't @ me i'm at a starbucks doing my medical ethics reading right now)


End file.
